


Pistols at Ten Paces

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it gets hot people get a little wacky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pistols at Ten Paces

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #8 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"I have to take… strategic advantages where I find them."_

 

          Hot.  That was the description of the recent weather the inhabitants of the Cottage had endured.  Hot.

          In fact, it had been over one hundred degrees every day for the past six days, and the humidity was holding at close to eighty-five percent.  It was miserable.  There was no other way to describe it, and everyone was getting irritable.

          Debi hadn't been out of her bathing suit the entire week.  Suzanne had resorted to shorts and a T-shirt, and Norton was forced to equip Gertrude with two small battery-operated fans to direct streams of air onto his face and chest.  Harrison had spent so much time in the shower he was beginning to think the wrinkles were permanent, and Ironhorse had broken out gym shorts and a tank top.

          The Omegans made do the best they could between the pool, the beach, and the air-conditioned coach house.  But, even in the midst of adversity, life rolled on, and for the soldiers that meant the weekly trip to Ft. Streeter for supplies.  The senior sergeants, seeing their troops were as comfortable as they could get in the middle of a heat wave, floating around on inflatable pool rafts, decided to undertake the assignment themselves.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Derriman braked the truck to a halt in the parking lot.  "Okay, go get the rest of those lazy bums and meet me back here in ten so we can start unloading."

          "Right, Sarge," Stavrakos said, slipping out and heading for the pool, Coleman on his heels.  They'd be able to take a refreshing dip as soon as the rest of Omega was sent back to help with the truck.  Rank did have its occasional perks.

          Derriman watched them go with a smile and a shake of his head.  He was too old for lounging around a pool in something made out of less material than his underwear, but he didn't mind sitting under a tree, with his fishing pole, down on the beach.

          In less than five minutes, the rest of the squad arrived to begin the tedious task of unloading food, paper supplies, ammunition, and the like for another week of fighting aliens.

          "Goodson," Derriman said, steering the unit's medic aside.

          "Yeah, Sarge?"

          "Son, there's a special requisition in the back of the truck, you can't miss it," the older man said, his voice pitched low.  "Some… _special_ weapons.  I want you to take charge of them and see to it that everyone receives one, and only one.  Understand?"

          "Sure, Sarge," the medic said, wondering what sort of new toys Derriman had found for them.

          "I trust you, son.  Don't let me down."

          "I won't, Sarge."

          With a pat to the medic's shoulder, Derriman headed off to change into his Bermudas and grab his fishing pole.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Blackwood paused in his forward stroll toward the pool, watching as several of the Omega Squad filed out of the back of the transport van, each with his arms full of supplies, and headed off in various directions to make deliveries.  He was expecting his latest set of just released comics and wondered if they were still in the truck, or if they had been dropped off at his office.

          Oh, well, it wouldn't hurt to look.  If he found them, he and Debi could break them in poolside.

          Reaching the back of the truck, Harrison jumped up and took the three steps necessary to reach the last two boxes.  One was marked "Glassware."  Something for Suzanne, he surmised.  The other, however, had "TOP SECRET" scrawled across the cardboard.  It wasn't the official stencil Blackwood was used it.  It looked like someone had scribbled the letters on the box with a red felt marker, but why?

          He reached out and tested the box's weight.  It was much lighter than he expected.  Curiosity rapidly winning out over good sense, Harrison tugged the flaps open and looked inside.

          _Well, well, well, what do we have here?  I wonder if this was the Colonel's idea…_

          The blue eyes narrowed.  If it was Ironhorse's idea, just _what_ did he have in mind?

          Having still not completely forgiven Ironhorse for his recent defeat in softball, Blackwood looked at the find as a way to even the score.  Besides, it might be fun to get the first shot off, and by God he was ready to have some _fun_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse stopped short, watching Harrison saunter over to the supply truck and climb inside.  He shook his head.  Wouldn't the man ever learn?  If he'd just let the Omega Squad do their job, they'd have everything delivered in less than a half an hour…

          What was taking the man so long?

          He eased closer to the truck, stopping when an evil chuckle filtered out through the thick green canvas.

          "Payback time," he heard Harrison say.  "Colonel, this time I have the advantage, and I'm going to have some _fun_."

          Having heard that tone before – Norton called it " _That_ Mood" – before, Ironhorse did the only logical thing.  He ran.

Taking cover behind the hedge bordering the parking lot, he waited until he heard Blackwood leap out of the truck and head off toward the barn.

          When he couldn't hear anything, the colonel peeked up over the low shrubbery.  Reaching up, he grabbed the bill of his San Francisco baseball cap and dragged it around to the back of his head.  He didn't want anything getting in his field of vision when he launched a covert mission…

          In a crouch, Paul rushed from cover and into the truck.  He blinked twice, letting his eyes adjust.  There were two boxes, Suzanne's and…

          He stepped over and looked inside.

          _So_ that's _what he has planned, is it?  Well, we'll just see about that…_

          Selecting a short but powerful looking model, Ironhorse made his retreat and headed back to the patio to fill up with ammunition.  Then, he would find Blackwood.

          "We'll just see about who pays back who, Doctor," he warned the absent man.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Goodson and Stavrakos walked back to the truck.  Just two boxes left, one for Dr. McCullough's lab and the one Derriman had left the medic in charge of.

          Climbing in, they walked to the front of the truck and stopped, staring at the boxes.

          "You open that?" Goodson asked.

          Stavrakos shook his head, bending over to dig through the contents.  "Looks like there's two missing."

          "Sarge'll kill me!  You think some of the other guys took 'em?"

          "I doubt it.  This box was closed when I left it here for you, and I was the last one off the truck."

          "Who would've taken them?"

          Stavrakos thought a moment.  "I did see Dr. Blackwood just leaving the Cottage.  It looked like he was heading for the pool."

          "And the second one?"

          Alex shook his head.  "I don't know.  But I'm going to go change and head down to the pool myself."

          "But—"

          "I have faith, Seth, you'll locate the missing pair, but you'd better be sure that the rest of us have ours on our bunks later."

          "Right…"  The medic watched Stavrakos leave and sighed heavily.  Okay, he'd assume that none of the Omegans had taken the weapons.  After all, they'd be getting one soon enough – there was no reason to steal one.  That left the civilians…  Blackwood was a good candidate, and the only lead he had.  He'd just have to find Dr. Harrison Blackwood, and soon.

          He stalked to the rear of the truck and jumped down into the parking lot.  Debi waved from the corral where she was feeding apple slices to the horses.  "Hey, Deb," he called.  "Have you seen Dr. Blackwood?"

          She shook her head.  "He was supposed to meet me at the pool for a snorkeling lesson, but he didn't show.  Guess his new comics came in, huh?"

          "Uh, yeah, guess so.  Okay, thanks."  That wasn't a good sign.  Looked like Blackwood was the culprit after all, but why would he take two?  One was overkill enough.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The weapon was loaded and ready to go.  Harrison cradled it in the crook of his arm, unconsciously mimicking what he'd seen Ironhorse do a thousand times.

          There was no good way to hide the weapon, so he didn't bother.  It wouldn't matter anyway.  Once he spotted his target it would be too late.  Unarmed, Ironhorse would fall to the scientist's superior firepower.

At last, he'd found a gun he didn't object to.

          But where _was_ the good colonel?  It was like he was purposefully hiding…  Could he know?

          Impossible, Blackwood decided, moving through the tress toward the beach.

He found nothing, except Derriman, who was sitting under his favorite tree, dozing while his fishing pole rested in his hands.

In the many months that they had been at the Cottage, Harrison couldn't once remember the sergeant actually catching anything, but he kept trying, and Blackwood respected tenacity.

          Resisting the urge to shoot the sergeant just for fun, Harrison eased away from the shore and headed back toward the stables.  He managed three steps before the temptation swelled to overwhelming proportions and he swung back around.

          A test fire was definitely in order.  Taking careful aim, Blackwood drew in a breath, held it, and squeezed.

          A direct hit!

          Omega's first sergeant dropped his fishing pole and fell over.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse saw the flash of movement as he neared the beach.  It was Blackwood, all right, and he was definitely armed.  In fact, he'd just shot Derriman from the looks of it.

          The colonel's jaws tightened.  That was an underhanded attack if he'd ever seen one.  Shooting a poor guy while he was napping on the beach…  Blackwood had no class.

          Easing back into the shadows, he started working his way in on the scientist.  He owed Derriman that much.  Nobody, but nobody shot his best First Sergeant and got away with it.  _Nobody_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Goodson sank down on the back of the truck and sighed.  He couldn't find him.  Blackwood was gone.  Zap!  Poof!  Disappeared off the—

          "Goodson!"

The corporal leaped to his feet, snapping immediately into a rigid attention stance.

          Derriman stomped up, stopping two inches off his nose and demanded, "Who the hell shot me?!"

          "Sarge?" he squeaked.

          "You heard me!  Who'd you issue that weapon to?"

          "No one, Sarge," he said, adding a heartfelt "really" when the older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.  It was a trait he'd picked up from Colonel Ironhorse and it almost always had nasty repercussions.

          "Explain, soldier."

          "When Alex and I got back to the truck for the last two boxes, we found that two of the weapons were missing."

          "Missing?"

          Goodson nodded.  "Stolen, Sarge."

          "By who?"

          "Whom…  Dr. Blackwood, I think."

          Derriman was just about to lay into the man for correcting his Kentucky drawl and accusing one of their charges, but the logic of it all made sense.  Blackwood _would_ shoot him.

          "All right, Goodson, you listen to me and you listen good," Derriman drawled.  "I want every Omegan armed, loaded, and ready to go in ten minutes.  Got it?"

          "But we're two—"

          "I know.  You and I will forgo.  Now, move!"

          Goodson turned on his heel and dashed away.

          Derriman watched him go with a slowly growing smile.  If Blackwood had one of the weapons, it was a good bet that the colonel had the other, because, in all the years he'd known the officer, Ironhorse had never allowed himself to be outgunned by a civilian.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison eased through the trees, his eyes sweeping over the shadows.  No sign of Ironhorse.  He wasn't in the Cottage, or the Coach house, or the barn, or at the beach, or the pond…  So, where the hell was he?

          Targets weren't supposed to be _that_ hard to find.

          Unless…

          No, it wasn't possible.  The man wasn't psychic… was he?

It was true that Ironhorse had demonstrated some uncanny hunches, and he possessed a battle sense that had saved them more than once, but how could he possibly know what Blackwood had planned?

          Besides, it was _fun_ and what possible harm could there be in having a little _fun_?

          His fingers gripped the weapon tighter and he raised a hand to wipe the sweat off his face.

          The attack was swift and accurate.

          "Ahhh!"

          Blackwood swung around like an enraged bull.  "Ironhorse!" he bellowed, a second hit striking the back of his head.  He swung back around, firing wildly into the trees.

Charging for cover, Harrison regretted wasting precious ammunition on Derriman.  From the looks of it, Ironhorse _was_ psychic, and he was out for revenge, which meant Harrison was going to need all the ammo as he could get.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul eased silently through the trees.  Shadowing Blackwood had proved to be mildly entertaining, especially as the scientist's frustration level climbed.  But, it was time he taught the eccentric astrophysicist a lesson…

          Settling into a defensible patch of shadows, the colonel waited for an opening.  If he angled the shot just right, Blackwood would think it came from the opposite direction…

          He waited, patience an old friend.  There!  The opening he wanted.  With a strong but steady pressure on the trigger, he fired.

          Blackwood yelled and swung around.  It worked!

          He fired again.

          Harrison twisted back around, firing blindly into the trees, missing Ironhorse.  The soldier grinned, easing back as Harrison crashed into the trees, looking for him.

          That should have put a damper on Blackwood's _fun_ , Paul decided.

          "Ironhorse!"

          The soldier shook his head.  Blackwood made more noise than a stampede of bull elephants.

          "You have no honor, Colonel!"

          _That_ got his attention.  "What did you say, Blackwood?"

          Harrison stomped through the trees, looking for the colonel.  "I said, you have no honor.  An ambush?  You _ambushed_ me?  That was a low and underhanded move!"

          "What do you call what you did to Derriman?"

          He watched Blackwood blink as he considered that.  "That's different," Harrison argued.  "You and your men are highly trained professionals.  I'm a civilian.  I have to take… strategic advantages where I find them."

          That made Blackwood-sense.  The black eyes narrowed.  Harrison wanted honor, well, fine, he'd give him honor.

          "Meet me on the grassy knoll in five minutes," Paul called out.

          "Why?" was the suspicious reply.

          "Honor, Doctor," Ironhorse called back.  "Pistols, at ten paces!"

          "You're on!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two men emerged from the trees at the same time.

          "So," Harrison said with an evil grin, "how do we do this?"

          "Just like the colonials, Doctor," Ironhorse explained.  "Turn around."

          Blackwood hesitated a moment, then turned.  Ironhorse stepped in behind him, their shoulders touching.

          "Listen up, Blackwood.  I'll count, we each take ten paces, then we turn and fire.  Understand?"

          "Of course."

          "Good."  Ironhorse raised his weapon.  He took one step.  "One… two… three… four… five…"  Each count carried the two men farther apart.  "…six… seven… eight…"  He fought the impulse to look around and see if Blackwood was going to take a cheap shot.  "…nine…"  His finger tightened on the trigger.  "…ten!"

          The colonel whirled and took a blast on the forehead.  The man had cheated!  He fired, scoring multiple hits on the astrophysicist, but a call froze him.

          "Ready!"

          Harrison and Ironhorse both broke off their attacks.  They were in serious trouble – surrounded… outgunned…

          "Aim!"

          "Sergeant, it's a court marshal offence to—"

          "Fire!"

          "Follow me, Doctor!" Ironhorse yelled, slogging for the nearest cover.  He turned back abruptly when two of the Omegans stood and opened fire.

          "This way!" Harrison called, breaking right and running into another of the soldiers.

          There was nothing left to do.  They surrendered.

          Derriman walked up to the pair, his Bermuda shorts flapping in the slight breeze that had picked up.  Grinning, he gave Ironhorse a jaunty salute.

          Paul glowered at his Sergeant.  Reaching up, he wiped the sodden hair off his forehead, and slapped off the drop of water clinging to the tip of his nose.  "I want an explanation, Mister, and I want it now!"

          "Sir!" Derriman said, snapping to attention and watching his commander drip.  "I'm sorry, sir, but you were caught in a civilian-attitude-adjustment raid…  Sir."

          Ironhorse's lips twitched.  "I see…"

          "A what?" Harrison asked.

          "A get-even-with-Blackwood maneuver," the colonel translated.  "This is all your fault, Harrison."

          "Mine?!"  The scientist stepped closer to Ironhorse, hoping proximity would keep him safe.  He tried to wring out his shirt as he waited.  "Oh."

          "You realize what this means, don't you, Sergeant?" Ironhorse asked.

          Derriman paled slightly under his slightly sunburned cheeks.  "Uh, I hope I don't, sir, but I'm afraid I do."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "I'll give all of you three minutes to launch an E-and-E, then I'm coming after you."  He looked around at each of the soldiers.  " _All_ of you."

          "Sir!" was the instant reply from the squad before they broke, running madly in different directions.

          "E-and-E?" Harrison asked.

"Escape and evade, Doctor."  The black eyes locked on Harrison's blue.  "And I'd advise you to do the same."

          "Me?"

          "You started this."

          "But I just wanted to have a little _fun_ , Colonel."

          "I'd have thought you'd realize by now that _fun_ was hazardous to your health, Blackwood."

          Harrison scowled and shook his head, then grinned.  "But I got the first shot off."

          "You cheated."

          "I didn't cheat," he argued, looking indignant.  "I… anticipated."

          "You cheated.  And you had the gall to question _my_ sense of honor?"

          "Well…"  Harrison searched for the words, but the muses refused to paint his tongue silver.  "I, uh, I…"

          Ironhorse reached back and pulled the bill of his cap back around to shade his eyes.  Looking down at the large squirt pistol in his hands, he offered the man a lopsided grin.  "Tell you what, Doctor.  You help me track Derriman down and I'll call it even."

          Harrison's eyes widened and a slow smile spread across his face.  "You want _me_ to help _you?_ "

          Ironhorse nodded, muttering, "He'll sure as hell never suspect that."

          Blackwood nodded slowly.  There it was, a brand new facet to his colonel…  He took in the sight – shorts, tank-top, sneakers, baseball cap, evil glint in the black eyes, ready to play…  Now, _this_ really could be fun!

          "Lead on, Colonel!" he said.  "By the way, whose ideas was it to get these squirt guns?"

          Ironhorse shook his head.  "Don't know, but when I find  out—"

          "Colonel, you can't reprimand—"

          "I'll give them a citation for boosting morale," he finished.  "Hey, where's Debi?  We better recruit her before Derriman does."

          "Good point.  She's a better shot than you are."

          The black eyebrows climbed.  "Oh?"

          Harrison nodded.  "Yep.  Let's try the pool."


End file.
